Rosemary Morris's Blog – May 2009 Archive (1)

Murder Most Foul



When the sun retired on cool evenings, purple shadows crept across the fields and villagers sat in stout, mud-brick houses either gossiping or telling stories. The elders sat closest to slow burning fires of cow-dung cakes dried during summer’s ferocity, and whenever they mentioned King Chitraketu’s name, they praised him.



Yet the king found his life more barren than a desert because he had not received a son from any of his wives. Whether he resided in… Continue